


Songbird

by DementedPixie



Series: Demented Pixie's Buckystuckyfanfic [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missing Scene, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 11:31:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17866445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DementedPixie/pseuds/DementedPixie
Summary: My version of the missing scenes from the end of Civil War in which a bit of comfort wouldn't go amissFor you they'll be no more cryingFor you the sun will be shiningCause I feel that when I'm with youSo rightI know it's rightTo you I would give the worldTo you I'll never be coldCause I feel that when I'm with youSo rightI know it's right





	Songbird

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asemblanceoflove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asemblanceoflove/gifts).



Bucky Barnes had good reason to hate cold and snow. He’d fought in it, spilled his blood on it, and spent about 70 years asleep in it. And here he was again, wounded, in pain, and being dragged through yet more of the evil white stuff. He couldn’t help the stumble, he’d stop for a moment if he could, but Steve the super soldier kept on dragging him along even though he could barely walk himself. 

“Captain, let me help you.”

Bucky found he couldn’t lift his head to check out the new arrival so made do with looking down at his black clad feet instead. 

Steve paused, thankfully, in order to reply, adjusting his hold slightly in order to take yet more of Bucky’s weight. “T’Challa? What are you doing here?”

“I was wrong, Captain. I know this now. The man, this Zemo, I have him confined. He will stand trial for his crimes.” 

“I see.”

“I wish to offer you sanctuary, should you need it. In Wakanda.”

“Just me?”

“Both of you, of course. Sergeant Barnes has been through much and I see now that he was used, just as my Father was. Come. Others will retrieve my craft, if you would allow me to pilot yours.”

The black boots moved to Bucky’s side and a strong arm came around his waist. He shouldn’t need this much help. He was the fucking Winter Soldier, wasn’t he? Surely, he could walk unaided? Well apparently not. 

More movement through yet more snow and ice until, and if it was only a few minutes then it felt like hours, Bucky was finally allowed to rest. He collapsed into the sculpted leather seat, put his head back and closed his eyes in relief. 

He zoned out, aware of movement and conversation going on around him, but too overwhelmed by the tide of excruciating pain radiating from the remains of his metal arm. There were other injuries, too many to count, but the pain in his shoulder throbbed in time to his heartbeat and overshadowed everything else. 

Together, they had defeated the Iron Man, Howard Stark’s son, apparently. Weren’t they meant to be on the same side? What the hell had happened? Whatever it was, they had been lucky to get out in one piece. Or two pieces, in Bucky’s case. Steve… Steve had been hurt too. Throwing every trick in the book at Stark in order to fight, attack, defend. Teetering on the very edge of his impressive resources as he smashed that shield down repeatedly on Stark’s chest. Shutting down the Iron Man, his friend. Throwing down his shield. For him, for Bucky. The last time anyone fought that hard in his corner, it had been Steve. It had always been Steve. 

Bucky groaned. 

“It’s okay, Buck.”

He cranked his eyes open to see the bloodied and concerned face of his best friend, gazing across at him from the adjacent seat. “Steve?”

“Yeah, buddy. Here.”

With a momentous effort Bucky lifted his remaining hand and waved a finger in the air. “You’re hurt,” he wheezed. 

“Not like you,” replied Steve, softly. “Try to stay still, okay?”

Bucky lay his hand back in his lap but kept his eyes on Steve. 

“I’m sorry, Bucky.”

This man was incredible but not quite as incredible as his facility for self blame. “What for?”

“I can do first aid, but…” Steve gestured towards the molten mass of wires and metal that had been Bucky’s arm, “this… this is beyond me. I don’t know whether to bandage it or…”

“Just stop, please, just… stop. There’s nothing you can do. Just. Don’t.”

Steve waved his hand, vaguely, in the air for a moment before accepting Bucky’s words. “Sorry.” 

Bucky sighed, looking closely at his friend again, at the cuts, bruises, breaks, exhaustion, sadness, worry. He wondered if he could make him smile a little. He wondered how long it would take them both to recover from this. “I’ll do you a deal.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll lay back quietly till we get there if you will.”

A shadow of Steve’s usual smile crept across his face. “Okay, Bucky. It’s a deal.”

And if Steve’s hand ended up resting on Bucky’s for the rest of the journey, then that was just fine by Bucky. 

*********

It wasn’t cold in Wakanda but Bucky still shivered. 

The sick bay was incredibly well equipped, and he felt in safe hands, relatively speaking, but it still gave him a nauseous feeling akin to vertigo to lie still while the technicians tidied up the remains of his arm. The arm he lost in the fall from the train, in the snow. The arm Hydra forced upon him. The arm they made him use to kill. And now it was the arm that Tony Stark had destroyed. 

He tried to drift away during the procedure, trying not to be too needy but desperately wanting Steve, the one friendly face. But Steve was elsewhere being patched up too and asking for him would be selfish. Bucky had started to lose confidence in his place in the world and was unwilling to ask for anything at all. 

The technicians finished their work and wheeled him in a chair to a side room to rest, they said. They helped him get into bed, covered him in a thin blanket, checked his vitals once more, checked the drip that was attached to the back of his hand, then left him alone. And for the first time in a long, long time, Bucky gave himself permission to feel frightened. 

It had all been a bit of a blur, since walking into his apartment to find Captain America standing in his kitchen. Could it really be that since that moment he had managed to avoid capture, imprisonment, and even death? And with Steve still by his side? If Zemo had decided on an alternative plan then maybe Bucky would have ended up in a Cryo tube with a bullet in his head, like the other Winter Soldiers. If he’d turned up in Siberia on his own, the Iron Man would probably have finished him off for once and for all. And if Steve hadn’t helped Bucky escape in Bucharest then any one of a hundred people might have shot him, including the man who was providing his medical care now. 

They said they couldn’t remove the code words, not yet. 

They said the best thing might be for him to go back into cryofreeze. 

When they told Steve he’d turned and walked away, stiffly, before Bucky could judge the expression on his face. 

It was fast becoming too much to take in. 

The shakes came back. 

“Bucky?” Thank God. Steve was a beautiful sight to behold even if his expression of worry had become a permanent feature these days. 

Bucky couldn’t bring himself to speak, instead turning pleading eyes towards his friend. 

“It’ll be okay, Buck,” Steve whispered. “I’m with you till the end of the line.” 

It turns out a hospital bed can comfortably hold two enhanced super soldiers if they snuggle up real close. And as Bucky closed his eyes and relaxed, he smiled at the realisation that shared body heat can send the shakes away, for good.


End file.
